Stare
by Sinov06
Summary: In which a police officer stares at a college girl and gets caught.
1. Chapter 1

Stare.

His crimson eyes casted upon the vermillion conflagration that was her hair, and stitched into his memory her every dainty feature. The paleness of her skin, her plump red lips and the light pink pigment of her cheeks.

But he was simply a customer.

A lone man sitting in the corner of a people-deprived cafe. Coiling sinewy fingers about his coffee cup, his eyes remained on her; knowing full well she was unaware of his stare. He mentally berated himself for indulging in such a creepy task, and pried his gaze away from her. As if to keep himself occupied, he scanned the room. It was moderately-furnished with diner tables and chairs and even a dark-wooded bar. Antiquated artwork clung to the veneer walls, and he found himself inferencing the meaning of each one.

Growing bored of that, he turned to the girl again. Her cerulean depths were glued to a novel which title was blocked by a tissue dispenser. He noted how her thin brow would crinkle every so often, and deduced that the contents in the book were perplexing. He considered walking up to her, but soon shook his head at himself as the reason why he decided to would definitely be abhorred by her. He then noticed that she had quite the spread on her table. A cleaned-off plate was before her, but a bowl filled with two slices of uneaten bread was to its left. To its right remained a half-eaten salad, and he saw the fork clasped in her free hand that suggested she was still working on it.

He chuckled at this.

He dug calloused fingers into his flaxen strands, promptly combing them through. His sharp jaw slightly slackened in disbelief as the girl ordered another serving of the salad and reached for one of the slices of bread. A waiter came to his table and refilled his cup, and he thanked her briefly before eyeing the the girl once more. Her attire was peculiar, especially for Japan; a bright pink cheongsam. A meticulously designed flower pattern lined the edge of her dress and went on endlessly, and he assumed it stopped at the end of the dress.

Occasionally, she inclined her head to look at the clock that hung high above the door, as if expecting something to happen or someone to come. Unconsciously, he hoped it was former. With her head lifted higher, he could see the perfect outline of her aristocrat nose, and her cerulean gems rimmed with freakishly thick lashes. After a short second, her concentration was back on her book.

He brought his cup to his lips and took a sip, his inner loser jumping in excitement as she took a sip of her own simultaneously. Then, after all the dishes on her table were cleared of their contents, she stood up, and walked in the direction in which he sat.

Time slowed. Surely she was simply going to the restroom behind him, _right_? His heart pounded relentlessly against his rib cage, and he felt himself perspire under his raging apprehension. He closed his eyes, repeating the same prayer in his mind as if his life depended on it. Feeling his throat dry up like a desert, he reached for his drink a took a sip.

"You've been staring at me for a while, haven't you?"

He choked.


	2. Chapter 2

Stare. Chapter two.

His mind ran to all the possible excuses and words that he could spit out, but found none that would be plausible. Other than of course to simply admit he found her attractive. He laughed at himself; _as if._

"I-uh, you eat a- a lot..."

It came out in a monotonous, jumbled mess, and he swore he could see his pride deteriorate into thin air.

Her lips flattened into a thin line, eyebrows knitting together in cool confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind and regarded him with a discerned look. Without his consent, she took the seat across from him and laced her slim fingers before placing her chin atop them.

He saw no ill-intent in her eyes. In fact, he marvelled at how unbelievably innocent she appeared. And although the faith he had in himself was horribly depleted, he felt at ease knowing she didn't detest him.

"What's your name?"

"Okita Sougo."

He spoke automatically. The awkwardness in his voice left; indifferent baritone taking over like he was a completely new person.

"Mine's Kagura," she said, bypassing the fact that he didn't ask. She lifted her chin off her fingers and straightened her back. "If you were seeking my number, I don't have a cellphone."

He shook his head. "Ah, that wasn't what I was going for. Though I did find you pretty."

Her mouth momentarily hung open in shock, and the sudden redness that invaded the paleness of her face made him think she didn't receive the compliment often. And he couldn't help but wonder why.

"Thanks," she answered, a faint smile tugging at her lips. One in which he wouldn't mind seeing again.

"No problem," he answered simply, bringing his drink to his lips and draining his cup completely. Not wanting it to become silent again, he asked: "What book were you reading?"

"It's called 'Ambience'. It's unpopular. The kanji is needlessly complicated. It's quite the mental strain." She sighed.

 _Then why are you still reading it?_ How he wished to say that. "What's it about?" He asked instead. And although his voice probably said otherwise, he was actually intrigued.

She moistened her lips. "Well... It's about a man named Kuboto Hiroya. He's supposedly an attractive man-"

"Supposedly?" He questioned.

"The author made it seem so. But doesn't write it. Sharp jawline, wise onyx eyes, short raven locks, slightly tanned complexion; he's most likely good looking," Kagura explained. Sougo didn't miss the hint of impatience in her tone.

He swiftly nodded his head; satisfied with her answer.

"He likes alone time. Mostly finds himself walking endlessly in nature; an introvert, if you will. He's eccentric. Speaks with animals."

"Oh."

"I know."

"So what's his goal?"

She contemplated this for a minute, and said: "I'm unsure myself. I'm not even close to being halfway through. For such a simple topic, you'd think it'd be shorter."

He only nodded. Once again noticing the conversation coming to an unwanted close, he pointed at her wear.

"Are you Chinese? I'm not trying to be stereotypical or anything."

She laughed. Something that he forgot sounded so cheerful. "Oh no. My... Father is a cheap man."

"I see... It doesn't look cheap to me."

"Oh. You were talking about the dress. It was a gift."

He tilted his head, a befuddled look on his refined features. "What else could I have been talking about?"

She lifted her bag and on it hung two gold patterned Chinese buns. "I wear these."

It would be meaningless to question why at this point. "Do you really think I watched you long enough for me to look at your belongings as well?" His voice said he took no offence. He was genuinely curious.

A mischievous smirk split her face. "I don't know these days..."

Interested by her change of personality, he smirked as well. "Well I'm not _that_ shady... China."

Her eyes widened, "A nickname? You make it seem like we'll see each other again."

He shrugged, "Well, think of it as how you'll know it's me. I'm a police officer. If I see you robbing a store, I'll use your nickname."

She pursed her lips, "I don't steal."

"I don't know these days..." He parroted her, smirk as wide as ever.

She laughed again. "Ah my own medicine is bitter. Well if I do stoop that low, I'll request the stalker Okita Sougo."

He released a breath of pseudo-defeat and raised an eyebrow. "Eh? You wouldn't..."

She grinned. "Of course not. It's not your fault I'm pretty."

This, he laughed at. "Well on the outside you are."

"Oi, not cool." She protested firmly, although the bright smile on her lips meant she wasn't at all bothered by the comment.

"So, China, are you a natural redhead?" He deadpanned, only asking to hear her voice.

"Well, yeah. I know it's a rare colour, but what can you do? It's heredity."

He hummed in understanding. He cocked his head to the side, several rigid bones cracking. He smiled when she grimaced and shuddered. "Do you not like the sound?"

"No, not at all. It gives me goosebumps," she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head in disgust.

"Well that's too bad," he popped his knuckles and her face went purple, "my bones have been tense lately." He rolled his wrists and they snapped in place. A particular loud crack filled the room and he whistled in delight.

"You're evil," she murmured, rubbing quivering hands over her arms to quell the stiffness of her nerves.

He was going to retort with a mock comment, but was interrupted by the sudden alarm of his phone. He picked up and began with an informal 'what.' Kagura assumed he didn't exactly enjoy the presence of the person the other line, as his expression displayed pure irritation and discomfort.

"Alright, Hijibaka, I'll do it. But you gotta commit sepukku in return."

A furious gruff voice rang in his ears, and Kagura winced. Even though the call wasn't on speaker, whoever's voice that was, it was loud enough to make it seem the person was in the room.

Sougo snapped the phone shut and scowled at the table for a minute, muttering something irately beneath his breath. "It was the vice-chief. He's loud, sorry. I don't exactly like him."

"I can see that." Kagura said pointedly. She curled her fingers about her hair uncomfortably, trying her hardest to figure out their relationship. Coming to terms with the fact it was futile, she smiled, "what did he do to make you hate him?"

He massaged his temples and shook his head, "A _lot._ The thing is I hate him." Wanting to negate the upcoming awkwardness, he said:

"I have to do a demonstration at a nearby university."

Raising an eyebrow, she gesticulated to the large building situated at the end of the road. "That one?"

"Yeah. You know it?"

"I go there. I'm a second year," she stated indifferently. Her gaze gravitating to an imaginary object at her feet.

"Why do you sound so out of it?" He asked, angling his head to look at her properly.

"School bores me. I have a scarce amount of friends. But they're in different faculties. And we barely hang out from the large amount of homework they receive."

"And where's your homework?" He questioned.

"I always finish it before I go home. It's almost impossible to concentrate with the people I live with. They're boisterous."

"I see. What faculty are you in?"

"I got direct entry into the faculty of law. I'm going off a scholarship. I can't lose it," her face went grim, as if the things she just said were happily forgotten and sadly remembered. "It's actually quite stressful."

 _Then why're you at an unpopular Cafe reading an unpopular book instead of studying?_ He couldn't choose the correct words to voice this without harm. Her eyes elevated to stare above his head, horror splayed across doll-craft features. He was about to speak on this before she stood up suddenly.

"I'm sorry to rush out, but it's already late and my father expected me home thirty minutes ago." The urgency in her tone was alarming. It made him wonder just how menacing and high strung this father of hers is.

"No, I understand. I'll... See you again."

She nodded and left silently, not a trace of her ever being there left; other than a bill that covered both his and her beverages.

He scratched his neck, "Interesting girl..."


	3. Chapter 3

Stare. Chapter three.

Training days were always strenuous.

No matter the opponent, he would strike them down with little to no effort, and the few beads of sweat that accumulated on his temples was merely caused by the exertion of skillfully maneuvering his strong, experienced limbs. Quite honestly, he was proud of his men for volunteering to spar with him. Intrepidly stepping on the same ground as him was admirable. And he found the expressions they wore on their faces when they landed pathetically on the ground _amusing_.

As morbid as that sounds, his lazily deadpanned expression never left the features of his face, making him seem somewhat concentrated on the activity he was doing. But in reality, his mind was usually elsewhere during these long two hours.

Specifically, however, the day after his long talk with the China girl, Kagura, his thoughts were directed on her. Crimson pools swirled enigmatically as his mind ventured the realms of curiosity. Questioning her life as if she was present in the room and he was interrogating her like the criminals he arrests.

 _Does China know how to fight? She looks strong. How good does she do in school? What is she doing right now? If I'm curious about a girl four years younger, does that make me a pedophile?_

His handsome face scowls at this thought, before swivelling around to topple the unprepared man before him to the tatami-matted ground.

"Yosh. That's enough for today, guys," he said, wiping away the moistness on his forehead. His division merely groaned in acknowledgement.

"You were amazing as always, captain!" The detective Yamazaki says to him as he exited the room. The air outside the training quarters is much cooler on his unclothed torso. He gives a light shudder.

"Right." He responds dryly.

The dull man beams at him before strutting down the hall. Heaving a sigh, he made his way to his office. Sliding the door closed behind him, he stared at himself in the large mirror he had on the wall. Smugly smirking at his well-defined muscles and attractive face, he buttoned up his dress shirt, slipping on the gold-lined vest not long after. He ruffled his slightly dampened locks and pulled on his uniform jacket. Slipping a handgun in the discreet pocket inside said jacket, he summoned a yawn.

The chief of the department greeted him with kind eyes, and a grin so wide it revealed pearly rows of teeth. "Good luck at the university, Sougo!"

"Thanks, Kondo-san," he said smilingly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. Waving goodbye, he exited the police department and looked up at the shined mirrors of Hijikata's office. He stuck out his tongue and flipped him off, knowing full well there was a woman reporting the disappearance of her husband as he was slightly slouching on his seat, watching her intently with those coal eyes of his. Ending his array of mockery, he began down the road in the direction of Gintama university.

...

He deliberately arrived later than he was scheduled to, simply to annoy the uptight professors that he knew worked there. His gait was maddeningly slow and accentuated, feeling every iota of the concrete sidewalk with his leather shoes. He entered the building, that same walk unhindered, extending his tardiness to fifteen minutes. Whistling a catchy tune, he paused at one classroom. 3z. He pushed open the doors and walked in ostentatiously, crimson gems glimmered expectantly when the majority of the girls swooned upon laying their eyes on him.

The teacher silenced them.

He remained silent for a minute, taking his precious time to scan the occupants of the incredibly large room. Failing in spotting the conspicuous vermillion, he frowned. _Did she purposely miss this day to avoid me? That can't be it..._

He cleared his throat. "Hey. So you kids are all aiming to be lawyers, yeah? Well, I look forward to working with you. It's a competitive career; constantly debating, arguing, etcetera." He stopped to scan the students again. All of them were paying close attention.

Then he saw it. His gaze gravitated to the far back were there was a scarce amount of people. One person that could easily be overlooked lingered in the corner, and he thanked his vision. He or she was hooded, as if monopolizing themselves from the rest of the class. He was about to speak again when a stray lock of vermillion fell out of the darkness in which the hood casted.

 _Found you..._ He cleared his throat and said: "Let me tell you guys how to protect yourselves..."

The presentation finished, and a downpour of females rushed down the stairs and flocked around him. He pushed them aside with strong hands. Their ear-piercing shrieks intensified, claiming 'he touched me!' Flaxen brows wrinkling in aggravation, he silently left and began his leisure search for a certain girl.

Upon seeing her attempting a furtive escape, he abruptly placed his hands on her shoulders and nearly yelled out when she flipped him over her and onto the cold, hard ground. He suddenly felt a strong sense of guilt for making his division experience such a pride-insulting thing every day. He stared up at her; awestruck.

"China... D-did you just... Just _flip_ a grown man over your head?" He muttered incredulously, eyes reduced to wine-stained shards. He lied there for a moment, thoroughly processing the completely new information being shoved into his brain.

Her hood fell to her shoulders, a horrified look contorting the features of her doll-like face. "Wh- Ok-Okita?! What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the exact damn thing, idiot," he retorts curtly, sitting up and pulling himself off the ground. "You've wounded a police officer's pride, how do you expect to make up for it?"

She was unamused. "What? You just taught the class to not trust anyone and to always act with a high level of hostility to those who seem suspicious." She paused and stared unwaveringly into his crimson depths. "I just did what you asked, officer."

"Now don't be difficult and use my words against me," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're going to repay me. Unless you want to spend the night in jail."

"What?" She demanded lowly, and he laughed at her desperate attempt to maintain her composure. "I've done nothing outside the law."

"Needless violence against an innocent person and talking back to your superior who also happens to be a policeman," he deadpanned.

She grumbled beneath her breath before heaving a sigh. With tired, half lidded eyes and impatient tone, she asked: "what do you want of me?"

As if he had rehearsed the following lines endlessly the night before, he declared: "you must call me Okita-sama, and do every little thing I may wish. If you wear a maid uniform, then perhaps il shorten the length in which I order you around."

"So how long will I be in jail?" She then asked.

He chuckled. "Once I say what you do, you have to do it. If you don't, I'll tantalize you forever."

"Why are you even a cop and not some... Sadist working some shady business underground?"

"Sometimes I question that myself," he said, fluttering his eyes shut.

She broods over this for a moment, lacing slender fingers with one another and placing the behind her back. "Did someone force you into becoming one?"

He looked contrite for a split second, before monotonous baritone resounded off the hallway walls.

"In a way. My older sister. But I also did it because Kondo-san was there for me as well."

She wondered if this had anything in correlation with the man on the phone. Suspecting yes; she only nodded in understanding. As her mouth opened to speak, several seemingly hurried footsteps pounded against the marble floor with a reverberating loudness. She quickly pulled the hood over her head and stuffed her hair inside.

"China, the hell are you-"

"Okita-samaaaaa!" The supposed owners of the footsteps called, a crowd accelerating toward them after rounding the corner.

He grimaced. Devoid of any reason to stay docile, he let the words he wished to say leave his lips. "You guys are disgusting and annoying. Go away. Or else I'll arrest every single one of you for disrupting an officer's peace."

They squealed. "He's so cold and cool!"

After a long minute of convincing, the eccentric group dispersed among the campus, away from both him and Kagura.

"Oi, China, why do you wear the hood?"

He watched placidly as she fiddled with the wooden strings of the baggy sweater. She also donned stark black pants, not tight enough to cling to the nice outline of her legs. Her pale skin, cerulean eyes, and vermillion locks were all unseeable by the world.

"...I didn't want the girls to see me with you. If they're after my head, it'd be troublesome."

"Why did you wear it earlier?" He then asked, as if holding a grudge against her.

"I didn't want you too see me," she muttered.

He scoffed and grabbed her chin, gently elevating her head to look up at him. The cotton hood fell back over her shoulders, giving him a wonderful view of her face.

"That's too bad. I would've fished you out from the crowd of girls anyway."

She couldn't stifle the gasp that escaped her lips. Heat travelled up the length of her neck to her cheeks, and he chuckled before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. And lightly, a slow pounding shook his brain. His head suddenly throbbed and convulsed, nausea manifesting in the pits of his stomach. His mind hazed, and the concerned face of the girl before him faded and soon disappeared in darkness.

Thump.

"Okita!"


	4. Chapter 4

Stare. Chapter four.

"Okita. Okita wake up."

His mind hazed and twirled. He was disoriented. He opened his eyes and snapped them shut again, groaning at the sight of the dim candescent lighting. He felt thin fingers graze his forehead gently, and he relaxed under the light contact. With all his willpower, he pried open his eyes and looked to his left. There sat Kagura, the Chinese buns that she mentioned earlier holding the long ribbons of vermillion. He yearned to speak, but no words came out. After a long moment, he finally felt his vocal chords function.

"What happened?"

He asked, his voice gruff and low. He motioned to sit up, but she placed firm hands on his shoulders and laid him back down.

"I don't know. You collapsed at school, so I carried you to my place. Don't try to get up now, I'm gonna grab a wet towel for your head."

He felt pathetic. "Did she just say she carried me home? Where the hell is that strength coming from?"

She promptly entered the room and pressed her forehead against his. He stiffened. Her long lashes brushed delicately against his own, and her gaze that bore straight into his eyes was expectant. Her forehead was definitely cooler than his.

"Ah. You have a fever. It is getting colder, I guess."

She grabbed the towel and placed it on his burning skin. He took this opportunity to look at his surroundings. It was an ample living room, scarce furniture other than the couch he laid on, a duplicate couch mirroring it, a table and a television.

"You live here alone?" He asked hoarsely, half lidded eyes peering over at her.

She shook her head. "My surrogate father lives here as well. He'll be home soon."

He flattened his lips into a thin line. "...Isn't he the one who wants you home early every day?"

She nodded as she pulled a quilt over him, a geometric pattern lining the edges.

"So won't he be pissed if he sees a man laying on his couch?" He probed.

"Probably," she responded simply, her face indicating no look of apprehension. A chilly breeze sifted through the curtains of the large window and she shuddered.

"Cold?"

"Mm."

His hand reached to caress the softness of her neck; the closest part of her body that he could physically touch to decipher whether or not she has caught his unprecedented cold. She elicited a startled yelp.

"Sorry. Checking your temperature. You might've caught my cold," he said, emotionless face remaining placid as he slowly rescinded his hand.

"J-Just give me a warning beforehand." Her complexion held a very conspicuous pink. Especially so being how pale her skin was.

He smirked at her discomfort. "I'm a pretty unpredictable person, China."

"Your unpredictability got you slammed into the ground," she retorted. He shrugged. "So... Am I warm?"

"You're asking a person who also happens to be abnormally warm as well. I've got a cold too, you know."

A crinkle formed between perfect brows. Cool irritation. "If you knew that, then why would you check?"

He negated the question, instead asking: "What's the plan for when your dad comes home?"

She frowned. "You didn't answer my question."

"When I asked mine, you didn't exactly answer properly either."

She pursed her lip and rocked her hips to settle further in her seat.

"Well... I guess I'll just have to be straight with him. 'The police officer who held a presentation at my school fell ill.' That's good, right?"

He acquiesced. "Mm. How did you get so strong?"

"Hey, I answered your question, now answer mine."

He grunted, shifted in the couch, and turned to her. "Your skin is fucking white. It interests me."

She was unbothered by the crude word. Although she was undoubtedly red. He brought his fingers to the cold towel that rested on his head, and felt her neck again. She flinched.

"Ah. You're red. And warm."

She acknowledged his touch wincingly as he reached beneath her chin. "Here too. Tell your dad when he gets home that you've caught my cold." After slight hesitation, he added, "did you make a move on me while I was asleep? Naughty girl."

She gasped, knitting her eyebrows together and giving him a perfunctory slap on the arm. "Don't be ridiculous! And I'm doing you a favour!"

He snickered, "alright, alright, calm dow-"

"Kagura, I'm home."

Both heads turn to the door. The man standing there dropped the grocery bag recently clasped in his hand. Sougo was the first to speak.

"Yo, old man."

There was a lot of explaining to be done.


End file.
